


Solving the Riddle

by Harlowklepto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Honeypot, OC, Spy Hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlowklepto/pseuds/Harlowklepto
Summary: It’s been 73 years since the supposed death of war hero, Hermione Granger, and her granddaughter June has recently discovered a dark secret about her family. Not willing to stop searching for the truth, June ends up getting a lot more than she bargained for.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 21
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! This story started out as a prompt by a dear friend of mine, and it ended up taking on a life of its own. I don’t have a set update schedule, because I do work long hours and I run a business on the side, so please be patient.
> 
> Just a heads up! This is going to be a pretty dark story, but I will try my hardest to make sure there are trigger warnings before each chapter. There will be no explicit rape in this story, but there will be some non-con/coersed scenes. As a victim of violence myself, I know how sensitive this topic is, and will try my best to navigate these scenes in the best way possible.
> 
> This story is kiiiiinda Canon-compliant.
> 
> Kinda.
> 
> Enjoy!

June’s hand ghosted across the picture frame, her delicate fingers leaving streak marks through the thick layer of dust on the glass. In the photo, a tall man with pale skin and onyx hair gazed at the camera, his handsome features marred by a slight sneer. June couldn’t stop staring. The photo had faded significantly over time, but the secretive look in the man’s dark eyes had withstood the test of time. Sighing, June gently placed the photo back into the wooden box that she pulled it from, and made her way over to the older woman in the corner.

“Mum, who’s that in the photo?” June asked, sinking down onto the dusty loveseat next to her mother and twisting the cap off of another bottle of Butterbeer. Rose pulled her head out of the box she had been packing and distractedly wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, and most of it was plastered to her forehead.

“Which photo, dear?” Rose said, slightly out of breath. June pointed behind her and raised her eyebrow. “The antique photo in that equally antique wooden box that doesn’t even belong in this century. You know, the man who looks like he walked out of a Twilfitt and Tattings catalogue?” June’s voice was light and teasing, but she frowned when she saw her mother tense in front of her.

“I thought I had gotten rid of that box,” Rose said in a voice so quiet, June wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it.

“Why would you get rid of it, Mum? Who is that?” June asked again, her curiosity and concern rising. Her mother continued packing the box in front of her and didn’t answer. A long silence passed before June pressed her again. Sighing, Rose got to her feet with a slight groan and joined June on the loveseat. Grabbing June’s hands, Rose lifted her eyes to her daughter.

“I should never have kept this a secret, my love. But as time passed, I found it harder and harder to tell anyone the truth. I thought that if I got rid of that box, the secret would die with it, and when I died, I would literally take the secret to my grave. It seems as though the box has a mind of its own.

“I guess that I should start from the beginning. My mother and father were married in 1998. Little did my father know, but his new bride was already six weeks pregnant with me.” June nodded; her mother being conceived out of wedlock was no family secret. Her grandparents had barely graduated school when they wed. Rose continued. “My mother and father put on a good front to the rest of the world, but behind closed doors, the two of them couldn’t be any more different. The two of them married each other out of expectation, not love. My father had aspirations of wealth, riches and luxury, while my mother was more interested in books, knowledge and learning.” Rose leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes. 

“This eventually drove an even deeper wedge between my parents, especially when I was born a few months later. My father was a redhead with light eyes, but I came out with hair black as pitch and eyes as dark as the deepest parts of the ocean. Most of their neighbors didn’t think anything of it, because my mother had brown, curly hair and brown eyes, so my features were not that alarming. But, my father was suspicious for years. He never trusted my mother after I was born, and was convinced that my mother was having an affair. Years later, after my mother died, my father’s suspicions were confirmed when he discovered that box in the attic. Inside the box was a letter addressed to me, detailing the truth about who my real father was, along with a picture frame.”

June gasped and felt her heart plummet. Her grandfather had died when she was very young, but she remembered Grandpa Ronald having a kind heart and warm eyes. She couldn’t imagine the amount of heartbreak that her grandfather had experienced at the discovery of his wife’s affair. The discovery of this secret made her heart burn with hatred for her Grandma Hermione. Frowning, June walked back over to the antique box and pulled the dusty photo out, examining it further. 

“I don’t understand, Mum. This photo looks like it was taken at the turn of the 20th century, not at the beginning of the millennium. How is this even possible?” Turning to look over her shoulder, June saw her mother shrug. “I can only assume that my mother had an old film camera that she used to take that photo.” Rose said. Nodding slowly, June dug further through the box and grabbed the letter her mother had mentioned, and made her way back to the couch with the letter and photo in hand, and sank down next to her mother again.

”So, I’m assuming that the man in this photo is your real father, then?” June asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. Rose nodded solemnly, resting her hand on the photo. “This is why I never told you. Your Grandpa Ron was a good man, and an even better father, even though he knew I wasn’t his. He continued to raise me as his own, even after your grandmother passed before I was old enough to go to school.”

“How do you feel about all of this, all these years later?” June asked, leaning her head against her mum. Rose absentmindedly played with one of June’s honey colored curls, but didn’t answer. June took her silence as an unwillingness to discuss that topic. 

“And Uncle Hugo?” June asked, not wanting to know the answer. Rose threw her head back and laughed. 

“Hugo is your grandfather’s son, through and through. If the red hair wasn’t the first sign,” Rose giggled. June felt the corners of her mouth lift.

“So, do you know his name? Your biological father's name?” June asked, turning to face her mum. A shadow passed over Rose’s face before she answered.

“Riddle. T-T-Tom Riddle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Have i piqued your interest, yet?!


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken June a few days to recover from her mother’s admission. She had tried to keep her face impassive as her mother read Hermione’s letter out loud, but eventually, June had jumped to her feet and stormed out of the attic, shouting profanities loudly on her way. Rose had rushed after her, apologizing profusely for waiting over two decades to tell her the truth, but June’s fury was not at her mother.

“I’m the blood relative of the most evil wizard in history! WE are blood relatives of a fucking madman! How dare she? How dare Hermione keep this from you!” June had bellowed. Her anger was so powerful, that a burst of accidental magic had destroyed the street lamp outside of Rose’s home. June eventually calmed down, but her life as she knew it was over. After a Calming Drought and a cup of tea, she Apparated back to her flat in Hogsmeade.

Three days had passed, and June had read her grandmother’s letter for the hundredth time. No matter how many times the words imprinted themselves in June’s mind, she could not shake the all-consuming anger and betrayal she felt at the hands of her grandmother.

_ My dear, sweet Rose, _

_ If you are reading this letter, it means I am long gone from your life, and it is time to tell you the truth about who you are. _

_ Before you read the rest of this letter, please know two very important things. One, I love you and your brother more than anything else in the entire world. And two, I loved Ronald. Maybe not the way I should have, but I did love him. This letter details the truth regarding your true father, and why it is not Ron. _

_ I guess I will just get right to it. Without going into too many details, here’s the truth.  _

_ Your real father is Tom Marvolo Riddle. _

_ Please do not be angry with me, my Rosie. I was in the middle of fighting a war when you were conceived, and the circumstance of your conception was purely out of necessity and the need to survive. _

_ In time, I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.  _

_ I love you, _

_ Your mum, Hermione Jean Weasley  _

June brushed the angry tears from her eyes as she folded the letter up and placed it on the bedside table. Deciding it was time to get some answers, she stood up and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where her fireplace sat. She threw on her traveling cloak, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and tossed it into the fire and said, “Professor Potter’s office!”

\---

Brushing the soot off of her cloak, June stepped into the familiar office of her great Uncle Harry. The Defence Against the Dark Arts office at Hogwarts was cozy and warm, with books and knick-knacks lining the shelves. Several large rugs covered the cold stone floor, which warmed up the space and gave it a home-like feel. Harry Potter sat behind his large desk, his round glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a book in his lap.

“Hey, Uncle,” June said, smiling at Harry and making her way around his desk. Pecking him on the cheek, she perched herself on the edge of his desk and snatched a Sugar Quill out of the candy bowl. Eyes alight with laughter, Harry chuckled and pinched June in the side.

“Junebug. Can I ask why I have the privilege of being bothered by your smart ass?” Harry asked, putting his book down and leaning back in his chair. Chewing on the inside of her lip, June slid off the desk and sat in the chair opposite Harry’s desk.

“I wanted to talk about Grandma Hermione.” It wasn’t a question. At June’s request, Harry’s brow furrowed and he met her gaze.

“Why?” Harry asked, crossing his legs. Hermione had died several decades previously, and the family rarely talked about her anymore. She harbored a lot of secrets, and most of the family resented her and her memory because of it. 

“I’m sure you already know the truth, but I discovered that Grandpa Ron wasn’t my real grandfather. I’d like to know why my mother is the child of the most evil Dark Lord in wizarding history, and why everyone kept it a secret for this long,” June finished, taking a deep breath when she was done. Her anger towards her grandmother was coming back, but she tried to keep a calm head towards her uncle. 

Taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes, Harry turned to the back wall of his office and addressed one of the portraits that was mounted to the wall.

“Idris, could you please visit your portrait in the kitchens and see if one of the elves could bring us some refreshments?” Harry asked the portrait. The stout woman in the portrait smiled and nodded, and disappeared out of her frame without a word. A few moments later, two house elves Apparated into the office with a loud _ CRACK,  _ their arms laden with sandwiches, treacle tarts and a flagon of pumpkin juice. After thanking Tooly and Tibby and sending them back to the kitchens, June faced her uncle and took a bite out of her sandwich.

“So, I’m here. I know the truth. And I’d like to know everything, Uncle. Spill,” June demanded, staring her uncle down with a look that made regular men cry. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I always forget how much of a Slytherin you are, bit you don't scare me. June, I am not going to tell you anything. Not because I don’t want to,” Harry said, raising his hand to stop June from interrupting, “but because it’s not my story to tell.” Getting up, he made his way over to his bookshelf and grabbed a worn leather book, sighing as he examined the cover. He handed it to June and sat back down, folding his hands under his chin.

“Your grandmother kept an incredibly lengthy journal about her time during the war. Shortly after your mother was born, Hermione gave me this journal and asked me to hide it for her. She was terrified of someone knowing the truth, besides me. So, I kept it for her. Yes, I knew the truth already. She was my best friend and told me everything. She told me things even your grandfather didn’t know, but I have no desire to read that journal; I only imagine the finer details will break my heart.” Harry took a swig of his pumpkin juice and sighed again, his eyes meeting June’s once she had stopped inspecting the journal.

“Why are you letting me have it now, Uncle?” June asked quietly, opening the cover. The pages were yellowed and worn, but like the photo of her grandfather, the blackness of the ink hadn’t faded over time. Harry chewed on his lip.

“You are a grown woman, and Hermione is gone. Her secrets can’t hurt her anymore, or anyone in this family. And, Tom Riddle is dead,” he added smugly, making June snort.

“All hail the Chosen One,” she muttered, the corners of her mouth lifting when she saw her uncle roll his eyes.

“Smartass,” Harry chided.

“Asshole,” June grinned.

\---

June had no idea why she was too scared to start reading her grandmother’s journal. She sat in bed, staring at the weathered leather, taking deep breaths and internally arguing with herself that it was okay to at least read a few pages before bed. Opening the cover for the second time that day, June settled in and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You better hold onto your broom handles! Shit's about to go DOWN!


	3. Chapter 3

September 19, 1996

“I can’t believe you’re of age before us, Hermione!” Ron groaned, falling into step beside Hermione and Harry in the Hogwarts corridor. Rolling her eyes, Hermione playfully swatted him on the arm.

“You could just wish me a happy birthday, you know,” she scolded. Harry and Ron both laughed at her irritation. Throwing his arm around Hermion’s shoulder as they walked, Harry handed Hermione a small gift, wrapped neatly with a large bow stuck to the top.

“Happy birthday, Hermione,” Harry said softly, leaning his head against her shoulder. Stopping so she could focus on unwrapping her gift, Hermione gasped as she unwrapped the present. Inside, a beautiful brass bookmark sat on top of a small pillow, the edges encrusted in crystals and reflecting the light above. Hermione took it out of the box, turning it over carefully in her hand.

“Harry, this—this is perfect. Absolutely perfect,” Hermione whispered, feeling tears forming in her eyes. Harry gave her a half-smile and shrugged.

“I know how important reading is to you, and this bookmark is charmed so you’ll never lose your place in a book, no matter what.” Hermione hugged him tightly, her heart swelling with love for her best friend. Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably and stepped closer to Hermione, his gift in his outstretched hand. The gift was messily wrapped and was covered in Spello-tape, which caused Hermione to giggle at the sight of it. Smiling sheepishly, Ron pushed it in her hand.

“I couldn’t spend much, but I figured this would mean more to you than a fancy gift, so uh, here you go ‘Mione. Happy birthday,” Ron said. Hermione beamed at him as she opened her gift, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Ron had gifted her a photo of the three of them, hanging out at Grimmauld Place the summer previously. The three of them were laughing with their arms around each other, while random family and friends milled about behind them. In the background, Sirius Black was sipping on a tumbler of Firewhisky, laughing at something Tonks had said. Hermione’s heart dropped for a moment. It had only been a few months since Sirius was killed by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. Although Hermione wasn’t close to Sirius, he was Harry’s godfather and watching Harry grieve these past months had been incredibly difficult. Harry had had an incredibly busy summer, with helping Dumbledore recruit Horace Slughorn for the vacant Potions professor position, so Ron and Hermione didn’t really get to see Harry truly grieve the loss of Sirius until they got to Hogwarts for their sixth year.

Tears pricked Hermione’s eyes as she stared down at the photo. “As far as friendships go, I think ours has been the most unconventional, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” she sniffed, continuing her way down the corridor, motioning for the two boys to follow. Harry and Ron fell into step beside her, throwing their arms around her shoulders again.

Shortly before the trio reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, they were stopped by a voice.

“Ms. Granger, may I speak with you a moment?” Professor McGonnagal’s voice broke through the hum of the student body beyond the oak doors. Turning around, Hermione smiled brightly at her favorite professor.

“Of course, Professor! Is everything alright?” She asked, hoisting her book bag further up on her shoulder. The professor nodded curtly and looked at the boys.

“Yes, everything is alright. Boys, I need to speak to Ms. Granger alone, if you don’t mind. I will return her back to you shortly.” Professor McGonnagal turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving Hermione to scramble behind her.

—-

“I know you said there was nothing to worry about, professor, but I can’t help feeling like there’s something you're not telling me,” Hermione said, sitting in the chair across from the professor’s desk. Professor McGonnagal sighed and sat down, her forehead creasing slightly as she stared at Hermione over her spectacles. 

“What we are about to discuss here is confidential, Ms. Granger. I am about to ask you to do something that quite frankly, makes me disgusted with myself,” the professor said, shuddering slightly as she spoke. Heart racing, Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. “Professor? What is going on?” She asked slowly. Professor McGonnagal cleared her throat and leaned towards Hermione.

“Ms. Granger, since you are of age as of today, I would like to extend a formal invitation to you to join our ranks in the Order.” Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“The-the Order? I mean-yes! Of course! I would be honored!” Hermione exclaimed, stifling the sudden urge to jump to her feet and embrace the professor. Professor McGonnagal raised her hand to quiet Hermione. “Don’t thank me quite yet, Ms. Granger. What I am about to ask of you is nothing you should be getting excited about, and quite frankly, I am not sure you will even agree to it.”

“Of course I will agree!” Hermione said, slightly breathless, her excitement getting the better of her. “Harry and Ron will be ecstatic—“ She was cut off by a curt “ahem” from the corner of the office. Whipping her head around, Hermione’s gaze met that of Severus Snape, his black eyes cold and unnerving.

“First, you will not speak of this conversation to anyone, Ms. Granger, especially... Mr. Potter and Weasley,” Snape drawled, his eyes flashing as he stalked towards Hermione. “If I need you to take a wizard’s oath to ensure your silence, I will,” he said quietly, looking down at Hermione, his dark eyed boring into her lighter, brown eyes. Hermione gulped and nodded slowly, her nerves getting the better of her. 

“Secondly, I doubt you will agree to anything that Minerva and I are going to ask of you, today. This task is...unsavory to say the least,” Snape said, his lip curling slightly. Professor McGonnagal cut him off by touching his arm and moving around to stand on the other side of Hermione.

“Let me be the one to ask, Severus. I am sure that the favor will be...better received from me,” the professor said, grimacing slightly. 

“Hermione, as a Muggle-born, I’m sure you’re familiar with something called a Honeypot?”


	4. Chapter 4

Buzzing. That’s all she could hear in her head. Professor McGonagall’s words had shocked Hermione into silence, and her mind and body were frozen. After a few moments, she found her voice.

“Y—you want me to be a spy for the Order? But—but in a—in an...intimate way,” Hermione croaked, keeping her gaze locked on the wall behind McGonagall’s head. Behind her, Snape snorted.

“I told you this would go over well,” he said, his voice full of derision. “She can’t even say ‘sex’, Minerva.” Walking back over to Hermione, Snape bent down and placed his hands on the arms of the chair that Hermione was sitting in and put his face as close to Hermione’s as possible.

“Ms. Granger, I am sure that Minerva is sympathetic to your inexperience, but I don’t really care how uncomfortable you are with it. This mission will require that you not only get close to unsavory people, it will require that you _fuck_ them. _Seduce_ them. Use your body to.. _assuage_ them.” Snape stood up and smirked at the look of disgust on Hermione’s face and began to pace in circles around her chair. Hermione found her voice, again.

“And what, may I ask, is the point of this mission? I assume that I am expected to...whore myself out for a purpose, yes?” she said, more bravely than she felt. Professor McGonagall sighed and sat back down at her desk, and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Voldemort has a secret. A secret that Albus has been trying to crack for decades, but he’s at a standstill and has been for a few years.” The professor adjusted her glasses before continuing. “This secret could completely change the trajectory of this war, Hermione. We are at a complete and total loss of how to proceed, so I began studying Muggle methods of war, and this ‘Honeypot’ method has been used quite successfully for hundreds of years.” 

“And I would need to use my sexual...prowess...to get close to whoever I can, in order to find out this secret,” Hermione stated, chewing on the inside of her lip. Her stomach had begun to churn several minutes ago, but she put on a strong face, so the other two people in the room couldn’t see how weak she truly felt. Professor McGonagall nodded, her face drawn and tired. Standing up suddenly, Hermione slung her book bag over her shoulder and squared her shoulders. 

“May I have a few days to think about this?” Hermione asked, first looking her favorite professor in the eye, and then turning to meet Snape’s gaze. She was surprised to see that he didn’t look as cold as he normally did. He almost looked dispirited. 

“Of course you can, Ms. Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, standing up and patting her gently on the shoulder. “If there was any other way, I promise you we would have exhausted that option first. Asking you to do this is not being taken lightly.” Hermione just nodded, worried that if she opened her mouth, she would agree without putting any thought into it. It was not that she wanted to be a spy or a whore, but her love for her best friend trumped all other rationality, and she would do anything to help win this war. Without another word, Hermione spun on her heel and exited the office.

—-

The next day found Hermione standing in front of Professor Snape’s office, chewing her nails down to a stub. She stood outside of the Potions Master’s office for nearly twenty minutes before the door opened on its own accord, and Hermione was staring up into the face of her least favorite teacher. 

“If you keep standing there, chewing on your nails, you’re going to bleed all over the place.” Raising a black eyebrow, Snape opened the door and motioned for Hermione to come inside. “If you are here to tell me that you are not interested in Minerva’s proposal, I am not sure why you are in my office, wasting my time,” Snape drawled, sitting down at his desk and pinning Hermione with an ice-cold glare. Hermione didn’t blink as she held his stare.

“I am not here to turn it down. I am here to accept the offer and help the Order,” Hermione declared, returning Snape’s look with a glare of her own. Snape’s jaw snapped shut in surprise.

“Can I ask why you had a change of heart?” Snape asked, his eyes narrowing coldly at his student. Walking slowly towards Snape’s desk, Hermione didn’t break eye contact.

“I never agreed or disagreed to this mission until a few moments ago, professor,” Hermione said quietly. Stopping short of Snape’s desk, she placed her palms down on the dark wood and took a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you; I have no idea what I am doing, and I won’t pretend that I am experienced in the art of seduction,” she said, frowning when Snape snorted.

“As much as I would like to pretend otherwise,” Snape said, his dark eyes flashing dangerously, “you have no issue catching the attention of the opposite sex. I see it during classes, and between classes. You would probably notice that if you didn’t always have your nose stuck in a book.” He smirked at the surprised look on Hermione’s face.

“I, uh, thank you, Sir,” Hermione mumbled, feeling a flush creep into her face. Looking up, she noticed that Snape was studying her.

“Why did you come to me, Ms. Granger?” Snape asked quietly, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. Hermion took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering. 

“Because I couldn’t stand seeing the look of pity on Professor McGonnagal’s face when I tell her that her favorite student is literally selling herself out to the devil,” Hermion muttered, the corners of her mouth pulling up when she heard Snape chuckle.

“Fair enough,” he said, the deep baritone of his voice more kind than Hermione was used to hearing.

—-

Snape and Hermione made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office to discuss what came next, and was surprised to find that Minerva was expecting to see them.

“Well, Ms. Granger, I didn’t think you would agree to this mission so quickly, but I won’t say I am surprised that you did agree,” Professor McGonagall said, raising a sharp eyebrow. “Your Gryffindor heart is bigger than your need to survive, so I could only assume that you would be willing to put your life and...virtue..on the line,” she said, clearing her throat uncomfortably. Face burning with embarrassment and shame, Hermione opened her mouth to argue.

“Professor, forgive me for speaking so harshly, but are you asking if I am a virgin?” she asked in bewilderment, her heart thudding loudly behind her ribs. 

“Aren’t you?” Snape drawled, finding obvious pleasure in Hermione’s discomfort. Looking in Snape’s direction, McGonagall cut him off with a glare.

“It is not your place to ask, Severus!” she snapped. McGonagall turned back to Hermione, her demeanor softening slightly.

“The status of your virginity is no one's business but your own, Ms. Granger. But if you would like to divulge that information, it is up to you.” Cringing slightly, Hermione took a seat and faced both of her professors. She never once imagined that she would be discussing her sex life with her teachers, but weirder things have happened. 

“I—I have never had penetrative sex before, no,” Hermione answered, fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands.

“But you have engaged in other sexual activities?” Snape pressed. Throwing her hands up in the air, Hermione looked incredulously at him.

“Honestly, professor? I am not comfortable discussing this with you. If this information is necessary to the mission, can I discuss it in private with Professor McGonagall?” Hermione asked meekly, trying not to show her mortification. 

“Snape is integral to the success of this mission,” Professor McGonagall said, choosing her words carefully as the horror on Hermione’s face became more apparent. 

“Integral, how?” Hermione asked slowly, her eyes growing wide.

“I am highly trained in the art of the Honeypot, Ms. Granger,” Snape said smoothly, his face unreadable and impassive. Hermione’s jaw dropped and she stared.

“I—um—sorry. I was not expecting that, Professor. So, what will your role be in all of this?” she asked, genuinely curious to hear more about Snape’s experience. Smoothing down the front of his robes, Snape started pacing in the office again. Hermione noticed how calm and collected he seemed, as if he was controlling his emotions and putting up a wall to give her a sense of security. Out of nowhere, Snape was in her face, his eyes boring into hers, and on instinct, Hermione slammed her Occlumency walls into place. Gasping, she leaned away from him as he tried to break through her walls, but after a few moments, he gave up and stood up to his full height in front of her.

“Impressive, Ms. Granger,” Snape said softly, a smirk playing at his lips. “I wasn’t aware that you were an Occlumens. Training you will take half the time.” Breathing heavily, Hermione shot to her feet and got in his face.

“What the _fuck_ was that for?” she shrieked, poking Snape hard in the chest. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to his body, to keep her from slapping him across the face with the same hand. Professor McGonagall made a move to intervene, but Snape held up his hand to stop her. Eyes glittering, he leaned down, his warm breath tickling Hermione’s ear.

“Ms. Granger, it is my job as a spy for the Order, to make sure that you are fully prepared to take on this mission. Whether you like it or not, I will be teaching you the ‘art of seduction’, as you so delicately put it,” Snape said in a low voice, raising the hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck. “I also wanted to see how protected your mind is, because Occlumency will be vital to the success of this mission.” Ripping her arm out of Snape’s grasp, Hermione stumbled away from him and glared.

“If you are insinuating that I will be sleeping with you in order to learn how to fuck, you are sorely mistaken, Professor,” Hermione growled, rubbing her wrist where he had grabbed her. 

“That is enough, you two!” Professor McGonagall snapped, stepping between the two. Turning to Hermione, she placed her hands on her shoulders to calm her down. 

“Ms. Granger, I would never dream of asking you to be intimate with Severus against your will. He will purely be teaching you sexual theory, not application,” she said, grimacing slightly. “Now, a lot of what he will be teaching you will need to be...practiced, so I have a list of other Order members who are familiar with the Honeypot method and would be willing to help you,” Professor McGonagall added. Taking a deep breath, Hermione sat back down and buried her face in her hands.

“And why can’t one of these Order members train me?” Hermione grumbled, folding her arms and sitting back in her chair. 

“Because Severus knows this side of war better than anyone else,” Professor McGonagall said quietly, resting her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “I will leave you two to discuss details of your training, Ms. Granger. Oh, and here is the list of other Order members who—“

“Who are willing to fuck me,” Hermione muttered, cutting off the professor. Professor McGonagall chuckled behind her as she handed her a folder, her voice softer than it normally was.

“I guess I shouldn’t be too angry about your language, Ms. Granger. You’ll need some of that fire once you’re thrown into the frey of this war. Just remember, no one is to know about any of this.” Hermione nodded dejectedly, but did not answer.

”Oh, and one more thing,” Professor McGonagall said, stopping and turning her head to address Hermione one last time. “It would be prudent for you to have your first experience with someone that you care about. Sex can, and will, be used as a weapon and I don’t want your first time to be used against you.”


	5. Chapter 5

The folder in Hermione’s bag felt like an anvil as she carried it around for the next few weeks. She tried to convince herself that if she avoided looking at the list, the reality of her situation wouldn’t hit her quite yet. After her meeting with Professor McGonagall and Snape, Hermione’s nerves had gotten the better of her, and she almost backed out. But the faint glimmer of hope that this could help win the war, kept her from changing her mind.

Halloween was quickly approaching, and Hermione knew that a decision would need to be made. The burden of her virginity was on the forefront of her mind throughout all of her classes, and knowing that there was no one in her year that she wanted to sleep with, burdened her even more. Of course, there was Ron, but he was one of her best friends, not a potential romantic partner in her eyes. She and Harry had joked several times in the past that she would end up with Ron, but was there really a mutual attraction, there? Sure, Ron was fit, and he had acted like he was attracted to Hermione in the past, but she knew deep down that she didn’t see him that way. Knowing that the mission could not proceed until she had had sex at least once, Hermione decided that she would make this life changing moment, one of clinical need instead of desire.

On Halloween night, Hermione sat in her bed, a soft _Lumos_ illuminating the tip of her wand. The cream folder sat in her lap, feeling heavy as a brick. Chewing on the inside of her lip, Hermione fingered the folder, before throwing it open. Like a bandage, sometimes ripping it off and not delaying the inevitable was less painful, and Hermione found herself staring at a list of men with photos attached, available to her at her disposal.

_ Kingsley Shacklebolt _

_ Dean Fruholt _

_ Cameron Belay _

_ Calvin Smithers _

_ Sturgis Podmore _

_ Severus Snape _

Hermione stared at the list, and bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. Three of the names she recognized, and the other three she did not. Her first instinct was to choose Kingsley, as she had always found the man to be attractive, but he was also a high-level Auror, and Hermione knew him to be gay. Sturgis was definitely out of the question, considering he was old enough to be Hermione’s grandfather.

And then there was Snape. Severus Snape, the cold, bitter man that Hermione had grown to despise. The man who’s voice was like dark chocolate and velvet, but with eyes as dark as an empty chasm, and a soul to match. Trying to imagine what it was like to fuck a man like that caused Hermione to shudder, and she slammed the folder shut. Although the three strangers were considerably more attractive to her than Snape, she wasn’t ready for this. She had no desire to have sex with anyone, let alone the men on the list. 

_ Maybe I’m gay,  _ Hermione mused to herself as she settled into bed. She knew better, though. When she pleasured herself at night, there were no beautiful women in her mind’s eye. It was always some tall, dark-haired stranger, oozing with masculinity in her fantasies that brought her crashing down from that addictive high that she craved so much. Just the thought of her favorite fantasy had her feeling slightly aroused, and before she knew it, her hand had found its way between her legs.

—-

“Ms. Granger, can I see you after class?” a deep voice interrupted Hermione’s reverie. Snapping out of her wandering thoughts, Hermione looked up at Professor Snape, who was standing in front of her desk, his eyebrow raised in question. Feeling the blood rushing to her face, Hermione nodded quickly. 

“Uh, yes sir. Is everything alright?” she asked, already knowing what he would be inquiring about. Scowling, Snape folded his arms. “We need to discuss your recent essay on the use of non-verbal defensive spells I set last week.” Clamping her jaw shut, Hermione nodded again and lowered her eyes. Ron leaned over and poked her in the rib, whispering, “Did you fail the exam, ‘Mione? Why does he want to talk to you?” Hushing her friend, Hermione shook her head.

“I’m sure he just wants to discuss my theoretical take on the effects of non-verbal spells. It’s a controversial topic. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for lunch. I shouldn’t be long.” Acting as though she hadn't noticed the furtive, worried look that Harry threw her way, Hermione waved the boys off and packed her things. Waiting until the last student left the Defense classroom, Hermione approached Snape's desk, her hands clasped in front of her.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, feeling nervous and twitchy as Snape’s eyes bored into hers. He motioned for Hermione to take a seat, so she sat down and crossed her legs, feeling her heart hammering wildly against her chest.

“I am checking in to see how you are coming along with the...assignment,” Snape said smoothly. Hermione snorted.

“Assignment? I’d hardly call losing my virginity an ‘assignment’” Hermione snipped, using her fingers to mime quotes around the word. Snape remained emotionless before her, his thumb tracing a path across his lower lip. 

“And unlike  _ some _ people,” Hermione continued, ”sleeping around doesn’t come easily to everyone,  _ Professor.” S _ he noticed that Snape hadn’t moved an inch, but was regarding her cooly with those dark eyes. After a brief moment, he got to his feet and made his way around the desk, stopping in front of Hermione and bending over.

“For being the brightest witch of your year, Ms. Granger, you are being quite thick,” Snape said softly, his eyes meeting Hermione’s. Chocolate eyes met onyx, and her breath caught in her throat. Time stood still as they glared at each other, when suddenly the realization that she was in a very vulnerable position hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. Sensing her discomfort, Snape sneered and stood back.

“Your virginity, or lack thereof, is of no consequence to me. But, you agreed to this mission, and your willingness to cooperate with said mission  _ is _ my business,” he said, his velvet voice so quiet, that Hermione had to strain to hear him. “So, I will repeat what Minerva told you, since it didn’t seem to stick the first time,” Snape said, making his way back around his desk and sitting down. “Find some unlucky sod who is willing to stick his prick in you, and get it over with. The sooner we can start your training, the better, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione felt angry tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she swallowed them back. If Snape wanted to play this game, so be it. She refused to show him any weakness, knowing that it was something that his ego fed off of. Slipping on a mask of indifference on her face, she stood up and met his penetrating gaze.

“Is that all?” she asked in a bored tone. Chuckling, Snape reached into a drawer and pulled out a book.

“Not quite. Here is your next assignment. Read this book, and read it well. When you’re done, you will find another assignment at the end.” Hermione took the book and glanced down at the cover. 

_ The Complete Illustrated Kama Sutra _

Hermione felt her face flush again. She knew this book, not because she had read it, but because it was famous in the Muggle world. Cocking an eyebrow, Hermione looked up at Snape and smirked.

“Asking me to run before I’ve learned how to walk, Professor?” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes. 

“Don’t get smarmy with me, Granger,” Snape said coldly, his eyes blazing. “Read the book and complete your assignment. And maybe read a few shitty romance novels in the meantime to get you in the mood to get laid,” he said through clenched teeth. 

  
“Sounds like  _ you _ need to get laid,” Hermione said lightly, turning on her heel and exiting Snape’s office before he had a chance to retort.


End file.
